ng one minute and then torment
him with accusations the next. I tell you if it comes to riot and
bloodshed here, it's--it's just women like you--that'll--that'll have
brought it all about."

But this was a statement so absurd that Jenny turned away in speechless
indignation. What was the use of logic or argument with one of her
brother's mental make-up? Leaving Mart to go on with his harangue and
confirm the mother and his wife in their view of her utter lack of
appreciation of her brother's noble nature, the girl walked wearily
away to her desk at the library. It was barely eight o'clock, and her
duties began only at nine, but she was an early bird, this New World
Little Dorrit, and loved to be promptly at her work, and the janitor and
scrub-women often listened to her cheery song as she plied the duster
among the shelves and desks of the sanctum. Wells, perhaps, never
noticed how much neater everything looked since Miss Wallen took charge,
but she was a dainty creature, in whose eyes dusty books and littered
desks were abominations. Mrs. Wells, however, was not so blind.

"That girl's worth two of Miss Stockton," was the lady's verdict, and
then, noting with self-comforting criticism the inexpensive material of
Jenny's gown, the absence of all attempt at ornamentation, as well,
alas! as of her predecessor's brilliancy of color and clearness of skin,
she added conclusively, "and she isn't pretty."

And these raw blustering days of late winter and early spring--or
something--had left their mark upon poor Jenny's grave and gentle face.
The circles seemed purpler and deeper under the soft dark eyes. There
was even less of color in the pallid skin. There was something languid,
almost droopy, in her carriage now. She had fought her fight without
repining or complaint all the long months through, and knew, alas! that
she was only losing ground. A year agone she looked forward with joy to
this position, and now she was loaded with even heavier cares and
burdens. She had found some outside work, but everything she made was
rapidly swallowed up by her home cormorants. "It would be just the same,
perhaps, if I had five hundred dollars a month," said Jenny. She was
blue, disheartened, and discouraged,--perhaps a little weak,--as she
walked rapidly on. She thought a sight of the foam-crested waves might
stir her sluggish blood, and so sped eastward a block or two and out
upon the lake front. Passing the Allison homestead south o